It Should Have Been Me
by Twiheart-HPlover
Summary: Battle in which tragedy strikes. Currently a one-shot, I'll post more if people want me to continue. Rated T because I'm paranoid.


I slash through an empousa with Riptide, but it doesn't help. Too many monsters surround me, and the only thing I'm doing right now is stalling. Stalling the inevitable; my death – our deaths, because the other campers are fighting around me. So many have fallen already. I believe the only thing holding me to my sanity is the blonde beauty fighting back-to-back with me.

Annabeth; my tie to the mortal world, the person who kept me alive through countless quests and my bathe in the Styx. I swing Riptide in a large arc, causing the monsters to step back momentarily. I take this chance to look at Annabeth for what I'm sure will be one of the last times. She is dressed in her orange camp t-shirt, jeans and converse – typical Annabeth. Her hair is in a high ponytail but falling out and matting to her face with sweat. She is covered with dirt and grime, but she's never looked more beautiful to me as she slices through empousai, hellhounds, and more with her celestial bronze dagger.

I am forced to look away from her as I continue to fight, but now I fight with more vigor. If I'm going to die here, I'm going to die fighting my best, not wallowing in self pity. As I fight more and more, pushing monsters farther back, I don't realize that I have distanced myself from Annabeth until I hear her scream my name,

"PERCY!" Annabeth cries, and I turn around only to see her running to me and being hit by a spear in the stomach. Everything falls into a haze as I see Annabeth, the girl I love, hit the ground with a groan of pain. Anger builds up inside of me and I can feel a tug in my gut. The next thing I know, the street we were battling on was soaked, monsters spluttering and drowning in attempts to get oxygen. Other campers turn to rid of the few survivors, and I kneel down to Annabeth.

At first, I don't understand why she would have done that, but it dawns on me as to where exactly that spear would have hit had she not ran to me. My Achilles Spot; the small of my back. The spear that now sticks out from her abdomen was meant to kill me. It's just like before, in the Titan War, when she took that knife for me. I try to process this within seconds, before calling out for someone.

"Will!" I yell, and watch as he turns, confused at first. His eyes widen, he grabs his med kit, and runs over to where I sit beside Annabeth, holding her hand, speaking words of comfort.

"You'll be fine, Annabeth. You're gonna be okay. I swear, I promise. Will's gonna fix you up in no time at all –"I pause, and choke my next words out, as Will tries to pull the spear out. "Oh gods – this is my entire fault. I'm so sorry Annabeth, I didn't know –"Annabeth cuts me off.

"It's…not your…fault, Percy," she breaths out, and I can tell she's fighting very hard to stay conscious. I look down to her now very open wound and struggle to contain a gasp and bile collecting at the back of my throat. Her shirt, now completely soaked in blood, is bunched up just under her bust to give Will access to heal her. Will looks frantically for something in his bag, finds it, and applies the liquid to Annabeth's wound. She hisses in protest, but remains silent otherwise. I must say I'm surprised at how silent Will has been through all this. Oh well, he must just be concentrating very hard.

I turn back to Annabeth as she continues to talk to me in a surprisingly comforting way. Only Annabeth would be concerned about my in a time like this. She speaks slowly, and I can practically see the energy drain out of her from the blood loss. "It's not anyone's fault, Percy. You would have done the same for me," and she's right, I would have, "Like you said, I'll be fine." As she says this, there's something in her words that makes it seem like she doesn't believe herself. She turns from me to Will, and I notice he gives her a slight shake of the head and stops working on her wound. Oh gods. Now I'm sure I'm going to throw up, but I don't, for the sake of Annabeth.

She starts to shake a little bit, which I notice since I am now holding her body in my lap, and tears start to well in her stormy eyes. Even near death, her eyes still shine with intelligence and pride, but I can see them start to fade into a steelier, dull grey. She looks away from Will and turns to me, not allowing any tears to be shed quite yet. "I love you so much, Percy…" she says, and pulls me down for a kiss.

Its full of passion and longing and desperation; the kiss, I mean. I continue to hold her as we break apart, and I stare at her for the longest time. I brush her blood and mud soaked hair away from her face as I just try to drink in her presence for as long as possible. I bring her tight to my chest again, in an unbreakable embrace. I close my eyes and rest my chin atop her head and breathe in her scent. Even after a battle, all covered in sweat and blood and mud, she still manages to give off a lemon scent. She relaxes into my embrace and we sit there, waiting. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, I don't know.

I change our position slightly so that I can lean down with my lips against her ear and whisper back, "I love you too, Annabeth."

I pull back from her and set her so she is lying on the ground again, with our hands intertwined. She turns to me, gives me one last watery smile, and goes limp. One lone tear, the one she has been holding back all this time, falls freely down the side of her face. As I see her go still, a part of me dies as well, and I let loose the tears I was holding back as well. They start out as silent, but quickly turn into heart-wrenching sobs and gasps for air. I try and call out to her,

"Please Anna – no, please don't leave me. I love you. I love you Annabeth Chase, please don't go – please…" my pleas fade out into nothing, fade out into the silence in the air and it doesn't help. It doesn't bring her back. My world turns grey and everything around me falls into blur. I vaguely hear campers talking about what to do with the body and planning a shroud and ceremony, but I respond to none of it. I just sit there, next to my only love, and cry tears of despair and longing.

Only one thought can travel through my mind at this point,

_Annabeth Chase is dead. It should have been me._

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**Do you think I should continue this, or leave it as a one shot? R and R please**


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